


Fire and Water

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [27]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Summary: The trio escape the trolls.
Series: Mikkel's Story [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Kudos: 7





	Fire and Water

It was all very loud. The water troll was emitting a kind of bubbling roar, so deep that they felt it in their bones, while the two-legged trolls were shrieking at a pitch that felt like needles jabbing in their ears. Looking up, Mikkel saw the water troll raising its powerful tentacle and pulled the other two tight against him as if he could somehow shield them with his body.

The tentacle slammed down … into a flaming biped.

Mikkel blinked, shocked to find himself still alive, but, soldier that he was, immediately looked around for opportunity in this unexpected event.

_There!_

As it moved to strike the two-legged things, the water troll had slithered slightly south, leaving a gap between its bulk and the wall. “Behind us! Run!” he shouted over the uproar. The other two spun around, reacted instantly, ran for their lives, Sigrun first, then Emil, and Mikkel taking rear guard. Emil stumbled on the broken rock, started to fall, and Mikkel simply caught the smaller man by the collar and hauled him along until he got his feet under him.

They ran for perhaps a hundred meters before Sigrun stopped, doubled over, coughing and gagging. “Can't run!” she gasped.

Mikkel looked anxiously back down the street. The battle was ending – the outcome had never been in doubt as the two-legged monsters were already dying on their feet, burning alive – and the water creature was striking down the last few. Still, he thought, the thing was so ungainly that it probably couldn't move fast on land – _probably_ – and they should be able to stay ahead of it at a walk. If the worst came though, well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd carried a wounded comrade as they fled from grosslings.

They walked.

The sun set and they walked by moonlight, the sky fortunately bearing few clouds, and those high up and thin.

The water troll followed, pulling itself along with its burned and lacerated tentacles, bleeding as the weather-warped street tore at its underside, but mindlessly determined to rend and tear the uninfected beings that it perceived before it.

“How do we handle the big one?” Emil asked, looked back fearfully at the enormous thing.

“Keep walking,” Sigrun answered wearily. “We'll kill it the easy way.”

They walked.

The water troll followed ever more slowly until they walked through the burned remains of a warehouse where nothing was left but beams standing in the ruins. The water troll pulled itself in but could get no further, and the monster was left behind, straining uselessly against the beams.

“There,” Sigrun said, “stuck and stranded. Now it'll freeze or dry to death eventually. That's how we take care of the sea beasts back home that are too large to hack to death.”

“That seems a bit cruel to be honest,” soft-hearted Emil observed.

“Yeah, it's not super great. Doesn't have any of the honor of chopping your foe's head straight off. It's why I didn't go into the seafaring business myself.”

They walked.

“So if fuzz-head is driving to the edge of the city, how far away would that be?”

Mikkel called up his memory of the map, estimated how far they'd come from the canal. “No more than ten kilometers.”

“Great, so … two hours of walking? Cool.”

“Sounds about right. … Here, give me your jacket and take mine. It's dry, at least.” They traded jackets, Mikkel carrying Sigrun's sodden jacket and Sigrun wearing Mikkel's, which was nearly big enough to wrap around her twice. The medic was seriously concerned about hypothermia, and further concerned when he saw her scratching her arm. That would have to be looked at, he thought. A wetting like that was not good for such wounds.

Not long after, Emil quietly offered to take Sigrun's rifle, which had remained slung on her back through all the excitement and would, therefore, need a thorough cleaning before it could be used. She equally quietly passed it over. There was little more that they could do for her, though Mikkel began to consider offering to carry her. He suspected, however, that she would have to actually collapse before she would even consider such an offer.

They walked.

They had only made a couple of kilometers when Mikkel saw his companion's eyes were nearly closed and he was torn as to what to do. Call a halt, build a fire, hope to survive the night in the grossling-infested city without the shelter of the tank? Or keep walking, trying to guide her around the rougher parts of the street so she didn't break an ankle on top of everything else? Or try to carry her, probably over her objections?

He was spared making that decision as he perceived a light up ahead in the dead city where there were no lights. The tank! Even Sigrun perked up at the sight and called up all her reserves of strength. In a matter of minutes, they were approaching the tank and Tuuri was already apologizing: “I'm sorry! I know you said to keep driving, but I couldn't just go and –”

“Calm down,” the captain said in an exhausted tone, “you're forgiven. _This_ time. Don't ignore my orders again, thanks.”

With all inside, Sigrun's wet clothes dumped in a corner to be cleaned and herself tucked into warm blankets (Mikkel gave her an extra blanket without mentioning that it came off his own bunk), Tuuri resumed the interrupted journey to a field outside of the city which she and Mikkel agreed was their best bet for a safe camp.

The long day ended at last, with everyone peacefully sleeping and the tank safely parked in a calm field.


End file.
